A Winner Is Two! The Joker
by jjp55
Summary: The Joker is dumped on an island and forced to do battle with other competitors for their very survival.
1. The Joker Introduction

"_We're approaching the island, everything ok back there?_" Bills voice blared through the tiny speaker. Through the thickened glass, Ben watched him lift his finger off the radio's button. Ben rolled his eyes at the preposterousness of it. They were escorting an unconscious man; they didn't need radio updates from the front seat to the back seat – they didn't need bulletproof glass to separate them. They didn't need the armoured compartment or the arsenal of weapons hidden under the false floor in the cabin. They could carry out this job with a rowboat and some ropes if they wanted. But if there was one thing BORED did best, it was effluence. So they had had the SWAT van stolen from Gotham city, flown to a secret lab in Switzerland, remodelled into an amphibious security vehicle, and then airdropped into the ocean 100 miles from the island. All the while, their charge had remained tightly bound to his steel bed, under a sedating drip. Ben had removed the drip an hour ago. He had to be awake when they dumped him on the beach so that they could explain the rules to him. All this for one guy – just one guy! He didn't even seem like the kind of guy who should compete in this tournament. He was a weakling; short stature, with a little muscular bulk. Ben had managed to take him down and drag him into the truck single-handed, without even using the dart gun. Mick Bronson. The toughest, most feared character in the Gotham underworld. Ben didn't expect him to survive a single night on the island.

But Ben said none of this. He just sighed to himself, and placed his finger on the intercom.

"Yeah, we're good. I'll get him prepped to go, so you can just open the door, fling him on the sand, and we'll be out of here." Unbeknownst to Ben, the captive's ears twitched and his eyes opened a crack.

In a few minutes, they had arrived. The amphibious truck made a 180, and reversed up onto the coarse, dull sands of the beachhead. Ben unstrapped the prisoner. After loosing the arms, he looked at the mans face. A balaclava; which he had been wearing since the kidnapping covered it. Ben began to pull it off, to make sure he was awake. Bill turned the engine off, and began walking to the other side of the vehicle. A low thump signalled the closing of his door. Ben saw the eyes of his covered charge shoot open. In an instant, the prisoner was up. Half freed from the straps, he grabbed Ben by the throat, and slammed him against the solid steel wall of the compartment. He leapt up, kicking loose his remaining bonds, and grabbing Ben in a solid lock with his arm behind his back. Desperate, Ben started hammering on the side of the van; the sound reverberated loudly inside the tight space. The man sighed loudly.

"You know… he can't hear you." Ben continued, beating anxiously on the wall. "Ok, ok, in 3 seconds you're going to stop… or, we'll do this the hard way. Alright… 3… 2… alright, hard way it is then." Suddenly the man twisted his arm further up his back. Ben's other arm went limp, and his knees buckled in pain. With a violent his, the stranger rammed his palm into Ben's elbow – snapping his arm with the crippling blow. With a hideous crack, the joint was broken, and a piece of bone broke the skin on the inside of his arm. Ben howled at the blistering hurt; it seemed to stretch out through his entire body, spreading through his system, pulsing gently, but brutally on his brain. His broken arm seemed to go numb, but the rest of his body felt the agony, as he writhed about on the floor. For a split second, the thought crossed his mind, that this man was far stronger than when they encountered him before. When they had kidnapped him he had seemed to weak; now Mick Bronson was abnormally strong. Ben did not dwell on this thought for long; the pain was too much for him to bear, and he slowly watched as the already surreal world around him faded away, and away, and away…

The former hostage didn't dwell on his brutal attack for long either.

"Hush shshhshsh… if you scream someone might here you now, won't they…" He was right.

Outside, Bill had heard the muffled bangs, and the even louder screaming. Most likely it was an escape attempt; and Ben had been forced to injure the prisoner. Just in case though, he drew out his gun from its holster at his hip.

He inserted his key into the massive lock on the door, and began to twirl the lever. The truck had been designed like a safe; nobody could get in or out without having the key _and_ knowing the code. Bill opened the door, cautiously at first. On seeing Bens familiar hulking figure standing at the doorway, he opened it more quickly. He failed to notice two things. Firstly; Bens entire body was limp, supported by a pair of arms in faded purple sleeves. Secondly; one of the arms supporting Ben also held his gun.

It took two seconds for Bill to notice the problem, and in that time, Mick Bronson launched Ben's deadweight body at Bill. Bill started to bring his gun up… and had no time to see the missile coming. He collapsed under the unconscious Ben on the cold, wet sand.

Without a moment's hesitation, Mick Bronson leapt from the back of the truck, strode over to the tangled pair of bodies, and pointed the gun straight at Bills emerging head. He fired – spreading a mass of blood all over the sand. The shot echoed around the vacant beach, rebounding off the nearby cliff side, and eventually dying to the howl of the wind.

When the echo stopped, the now freed captive took a deep, long breath, drawing the gun smoke up into his lungs.

Suddenly he burst into laughter. Crazy, maniacal laughter. He shrieked, and guffawed at the unmoving bodies of his victims. He paused for a moment, listening to the sounds of his own echo, then started all over again, laughing all the more. Eventually his laugh died down into a faint chuckle. He skipped across from where he was now standing, and bent down over Bill and Ben. He turned Ben over, giving a little flinch and chuckle as his mutilated elbow struck the harsh sand. He began searching through the pockets of the deceased Bill. He found what he was looking for; the keys to the truck. There was the door/ignition key, a much larger key for the back hatch, and another much smaller key. This, the man knew, was the key to the false floor in the front cabin; filled to the brim with guns, grenades, and other necessities for wilderness survival. He was about to trot on back to the front of the truck, when he heard a faint groan.

"What happened!" The voice came from Ben's limp and broken body. Bronson rushed over to him, and leaned in to his face. "Why did you do that?"

"Hush now, sh. SHUT UP! Lemme explain; you see, where I come from, cops and robbers play this little game of hide and seek. You know, the mob comes and rips off a lot of people, and the cops come to stop them – some stuff happens, and some people die, and nobody ever comes out on top. Now, I've lived in their world for my whole life and I know how it all works. I know the good cops and the bad cops, and the tough robbers and the slime… and I've played in their little game, and _I've _come out on top. Now, as you can understand, besting the mobsters, and besting the police, I'm on the run… a _lot_. But I've been running from them, and hiding from them and still stolen from them for years. And it's been so… boring.

"I thought; why don't I go to a place where I can kill people, who are _not_ cops, or robbers. Find a place where people are a whole lot more… fun to kill. Now you and your buddy, I have enjoyed your presence, and taking you out has entertained me immensely. But this is just the beginning. This island. This tournament… there's a lot of people here that I would enjoy taking down."

"Wait a minute! You're not Mick Bronson!" Ben was in pain, dazed and now so utterly confused by what the man had just said – it had only just hit him then. The stranger burst into laughter again.

"HOOHAHAH – AHHAHHOHOHEHEE… _Me!_ Mick Bronson? Well, of course not, what would you expect! Mick was a good friend of mine. I hijacked his heists several times – and when I heard he had a debt to pay to some corporation, and he would be forced to compete for his very life – I knew I just had to take his place. So I paid him a little visit, and he took it quite well considering he was hanging upside down from a meat hook through his leg. And then when I walked out of the building, you mistook me for him! How did you do that! Aha, oh, the mask!" The man ripped off the balaclava, finally revealing his face to Ben. Ben flinched – his whole body shook in shocked horror. The mans face was painted like a clown… or a ghost of a clown. His hair was green – dark and dull, but it glistened greasily in the overcast daylight. His entire face was painted completely white, except for his eyes, which were surrounded by dark black makeup, and his smile. His hideous, disturbing, ironic smile. The smile widened on seeing his reaction. Ben tried to look away, but the psychotic visage filled his entire vision. Blinking uncontrollably, he began to notice he scars. Camouflaged at first by the red painted over them, it became clear that the mans mouth had been sliced from the tips of his lips, along both his cheeks. A Chelsea grin.

"I'm the Joker… and I'm here to burn this island to the ground, with everything and everyone still on it. But don't worry. You won't have to go through that torment."

Quick as a flash, the Joker produced a switchblade from somewhere within his purple suit jacket. Ben flinched, and squeezed his eyes shut. He neither saw nor felt it, as the knife pierced his heart, and the whole world went dark.


	2. The Bride

**A/N the Joker vs Beatrix Kiddo, the bride! Black mamba! Actually, in this story she doesn't have a name, but rest assured that is the character that this chapter is all about (apart from the Joker). My first real entry in the A Winner Is Two competition, and it's a little over a day late. I'm really sorry, please don't hold that against me too much. I recommend you check out Kohaku Kawa's awesome entry in this round as well, may the best fight win. **

Deep in the northern part of the jungle of the island, the Joker was enjoying his first meal in days. In the week that had past, he had had no human contact. But he was used to that. After getting loose from his cage, he had set about exploring the island. He drove the amphibious police van up along them beach… and promptly punctured the hull on a protruding stick. With his only transport now stranded at the edge of the vegetation, the Joker had decided to walk.

And walk he did, pacing out circles around the peninsula he was on, taking in everything he saw, and learning from his surroundings. From what he could tell, this part of the island stuck out from the rest. He had reached one part of the shore where the cliffs turned a corner, and the island spread out, but he decided that if he was going to dominate this tournament, he should know his surroundings. He had devoted the week to learning about _this_ section of the arena. So far he had found a break in density of the forest, that opened up to reveal a sprawling marsh, made up of several small lakes, with knee high grass and reeds in between. Not far from there, slightly hidden was a small, fortified bunker of some sort. The Joker had tried to break in, but had had no luck thus far. He had also found his way to a clearing where the vegetation simply died out, replaced by the dark and desolate terrain of a malformed volcano. This was guarded by the foreboding figure of a not-so-well-hidden outpost-type construction. From down on the ground, the Joker could make out outlines of figures behind the darkened windows of the building. He did not venture any further. He guessed that the volcano was in the centre of the island; the compass in the SWAT van told him that he was on the northern side of the island. The time would come when the Joker would assault the main base with the perfect plan of terror, and a few dispensable men by his side. But time enough for that later; survival was the main challenge for the moment.

One thing he had discovered early was the potential for the vegetation to be converted into deadly traps. By tying certain sharp thorny stems around some larger, springier branches, the Joker was able to attach the prickly piece to a tree, and set a barely visible trip wire to make the branch flick out, and slam into a dummy stick he had set up. The trick was subtle, painful, and effective. And the materials were abundant! Here in the marsh, where the Joker had taken temporary residence, the thick springy reeds dotted the moist landscape; outside the clearing the thorns were found in occasional, large thickets.

As such, the Joker had surrounded himself with them; setting up a total of almost thirty traps, all around the tree line closest to him. There would be no way into the marsh on this side without being clobbered by thorns in the process. He now sat on a smallish rock at the eastern end of the clearing, eating his dinner.

It was his first meal since landing on the island; it had taken him all week to befriend it. It was the most edible looking of the wildlife seen so far; it appeared to be a regular seagull, except that it fed on insects and arachnids that populated the denser areas of the jungle. Its other peculiar feature was the bulb-like protrusion from its back. Its exact function was of little incidence to the Joker; it looked meaty. After collecting and feeding small insects to several of the birds, they had come to instinctively trust him. Tonight he had finally coaxed a lone specimen onto his lap. Once it was there, it was a simple matter of gently petting it to keep it calm, then snapping its neck with his free hand.

The tiny campfire he had cooked it over was slowly dying with the daytime; the embers shone brightly in the twilight. The island was alive with noises; crickets chirping, distant screeches of birds, frogs croaking all around the foul marshes, and far away, the screams and howls as contestants clashed all around the landmass. Hearing the fights in motion was having an effect on the Joker; until now it had seemed like a game, just one great big joke. It was only now it occurred to him that people were dying at this very moment; people forced to fight for their very lives were clashing around him, brutally and savagely. This island was a warzone. Excitement coursed through his body. Every nerve in his being was twitching; every ounce of his consciousness screamed for him to get moving; get in on the fighting. But he couldn't. He had to wait here. A twig cracked somewhere behind him, snapping him out of his own crazy thoughts. His prey had arrived.

He had found her today, wandering cluelessly through the jungle. At first Joker assumed she was merely some innocent civilian, caught in the crossfire by whatever mad corporation was responsible for all this. He drew his knife, and prepared to take her out quickly. He had barely made any movement however, before she had sensed his presence. It took her half a second to draw her sword, and point it almost directly at his hiding spot in the foliage. The Joker had kept still, and she eventually gave up and walked on. He suspected that she was some sort of elite martial artist, and more than well enough trained to use that sword. He could never take her in a fair fight; he needed a plan. He hated plans.

On hearing her behind him, his ears pricked up. He stayed completely still, not turning his head, or giving any indication he had heard. He knew it was her though; she was quiet, but her footfalls were quite distinctive once he listened for them. She slowly circled around him, eventually stopping in front and a little to the left; right on the edge of the clearing.

"Well, come on out, let me take a proper look at you!" He called to where he expected her to be. She emerged from the trees a little further back, cautiously examining everywhere she stepped, slowly making her way across the marsh towards him. "Relax, I only had time to make a couple. You've done an admirable job at avoiding my traps so far, I'll have to give you that."

"A couple? You must have rigged up half the forest! What's supposed to happen if I trip your little wire? Little crossbows come out and shoot me?"

"What? What makes you think I'd want to hurt you?" The way he said it stopped the woman for a heartbeat. Nonetheless, she continued her advance, now focussing on the hideous clown addressing her.

"Do you know what they did with B.B.?" She struggled to keep the desperation out of her voice.

"B.B., now wait a minute, let me just think… No, no, nothing about B.B. Was B.B. someone special to you?"

"Never mind. It's none of your business. Now-" She began.

"Oh, but I do mind. You see, I've found that people who become attached to other people tend to be the ones with the most to lose." He snarled. She stared back at him coldly, sword drawn, but resting by her side.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you know the saying right? Love hampers all. I'm suggesting that if

you want to make it anywhere on this island, you need to forget about… uh…"

"B.B." she spat.

"That one. You need to learn that these corporate types… they don't have any sense of sentimentality over killing people… there is a good chance that B.B. is in fact dead."

"Over my dead body."

"There you go, see, just because B.B. is dead, you think _you_ should be dead as well…

"I didn't say that."

"… Now that means that two of you would be dead, and both your lives have been for nothing."

"B.B.'s not dead."

"You don't know that he's dead…

"SHE!" The woman screamed, rushing forwards a few steps. A fatal mistake. Within two steps, her foot plunged into the ground, which gave way under her weight. She toppled forwards, collapsing into the mucky water underneath. The Joker leapt from his makeshift seat, scooping up a thick branch he had placed beside him, and leaping over his dying campfire. She had fallen into one of several miniature lakes around the clearing; this particular one had been dressed up by the Joker to appear as solid ground. Only on close inspection would the woman have noticed that this patch of dirt gently rocked and swirled with liquid-like motion. But she hadn't been inspecting closely.

"See what happens!" The Joker roared, and began pound on her struggling form with his stick. "When you let your emotions get the better of you!" She recovered surprisingly fast, ducking and rolling around, while trying to shake her foot free of the murky puddle. "You become attached to people… and when they let you down, you lose control!" Jokers' beatings seemed random, but each blow was carefully plotted, aimed and calculated in his mind. He lunged forward, hurling the stick at the women's back, while carefully adjusting his foot so that it kicked the katana by her side away. The sword came loose surprisingly easily, bursting out of its sheath, and landing a few metres to the side of the campfire. Both fighters saw it, but only for a split second, as he continued his beatings, and she continued to twist her body away.

Finally, the women dragged her foot from the mud, and managed to grab the stick from the Joker - it went flying too, landing upright at the edge of the marsh. The women and the Joker stepped backwards, facing each other across the pond. The women was soaked thoroughly with mud, sweat, and blood, spoiling her bright, apparently brand-new yellow jumpsuit. Her face was slightly bruised by the branch, and her back ached, but she stood determined, staring at her attacker.

The Joker, still in his purple and green suit, slightly spattered by mud, was grinning… madly. At the edge of the clearing, the Joker's stick slowly began to fall over in the mud. As it toppled, the top of it fell towards the tree line… right over one of Jokers trip lines. The stick hit the ground, the thin vine was tripped, the spring was loosened, and a face-full of thorny pain sprung out, slamming into the nearest tree with explosive force. The women took a deep breathe.

"Listen, I don't want to hurt you. I'm only looking for my daughter, just back away now, and I'll be gone. You do _not _want to fight me."

"Is that right… You know, _I _had a daughter once…" The Joker slowly began advancing. The woman moved around a little, arms up in fighting stance. They circled eachother slowly.

"Is that so. I suppose you lost her then? You can understand how that _feels _to me?"

"Actually, I drowned her" The Joker's smile turned into a snarl. "Couldn't stand her screaming and carrying on… so I grabbed her by the little piggy-tails… and shoved her face in the sink!" He began to cackle – the hideous sound rang into the night; the woman stared in shock at this ugly, monstrous being in front of her, as his horrible laugh echoed in her brain, growing louder and softer, louder and softer. His face, half illuminated by the dying fire glowed with a sadistic grin on seeing her shock. Her hands shock, her eyes began to water; she felt the anger building up inside of her…

"YOU BASTARD!" She cried, suddenly charging forwards, like a bullet train on a spring, ramming into the Joker, sending them both flying groundwards. Joker struck at her from the ground, throwing repeated punches at the woman's' already bruised face. She grabbed his arms, in hers, twisting them downwards painfully, gravity as her ally. Joker bucked his legs upwards, propelling the woman over his head, and forcing her to let go of his hand to make a smooth landing. He leapt to his feet, and she to hers. In seconds they were upon eachother again. As she sprinted at him, her feet kicked up embers from the fire behind her. The sparks swirled through the air, breathing sudden light into the consuming blackness the two now found themselves in. The Joker was on a brutal offensive, swiping and hurling at every open available, and then some. The woman maintained a barrage of parries with her arms, while also banking and swerving away from some of his mad strikes. The wind howled through the trees, blowing leaves and dirt through the thick of the jungle, and raising up more sparks from the fire.

It was by the light of those sparks that the woman saw how close they were to the tree line. And just inside the tree line… a tripwire. It was right behind her. Timing her moves carefully, she blocked, and ducked one more time – then pounced!

Like a fish suddenly pulled in by its hook, the Joker was suddenly dragged forwards; and thrown headlong into the thick of the forest. He stumbled blindly into the woods, seeing nothing, but hearing a sudden crack behind him. The sting as the trap shot out and whipped him in the back was like nothing compared with the searing pain as the shock wore off, and his nerves suddenly seemed to gather themselves and realize what had gone on.

The woman looked on, with a satisfactory grimace as blood began to pour down her opponents back. It didn't appear to be deep, but without a doubt the maniac's top layer of skin had been shredded by the trap.

"Ironic, isn't it? The clever hunter caught in his own trap." She wandered slowly to the fireside, where she collected her sword, then slowly made her way back towards the Joker, wincing as she went. "Have you had enough now? Want to let me go on my way?" She faltered as she watched him turn… he was still smiling.

"YOU! You are something…extraordinary!" He gasped, rolling his shoulders, sighing as if in relief from the pain. She approached him nervously, her sword ready to decapitate him if he made any sudden moves. He made one sudden move; He collapsed into her arms. It was so unexpected, she forgot to react. "You know, you really are, just way to much _fun_. What did you say your name was again?" he coughed, splattering blood onto her already ruined getup.

"I didn't, sicko."

"That's too bad, I would have liked to label your grave." The woman heard the click of the switchblade well before she felt the stab. She should have had time to react… but her sword hand was held suddenly in an iron grip. She felt the metal pierce her stomach first, then retract, and burst through her side. She gasped, and her sword hit the ground with a gentle thud. She held on though. There was one thing still burning on her mind, one thing she _had_ to keep going for.

"B.B." she whispered, almost choking on the bitter pain spreading from her torso.

"Would you like to know… how I got these scars?" Only then did she realize what was truly wrong with the mans face; his visage was covered in clown makeup, but that was merely a ruse. The makeup disguised the actual scars that ran up his cheeks, almost to his ears. Her eyes screamed a horrified 'NO' "Well, you see, I had my little daughter, right… told you about her… then this one night I'm feeling a little more out of it than usual. Forgot to take my drugs, you see, so I'm a little bit tense. And she started screaming at me; 'Daddy, why don't you smile at me!' 'Daddy, aren't you happy to see me?' but I don't like that… not… one… Bit! I won't lie, I was in a _bad_ mood. So I grabbed her by her hair, and, pushed her under the water…" The Joker's eyes were beginning to tear up, but his smile was wider than ever. The woman's eyes were wide, mouth hanging open, but she felt almost too horrified to even scream. "I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS DOING! I blacked out. When I woke up, she was _dead_… and when I remembered what I had done, I kept hearing these voices yelling at me in my head: Daddy, why don't you smile at me! DADDY! Aren't you happy to see me! So I got a knife, and held it just here…" The woman felt the blood soaked blade creep into her mouth, resting on the edge of her lip. Her strength to struggle had gone, it took all her energy to keep standing. "But then I blacked out again. When I woke up, I had done this too myself…" He licked along the insides of his hideous disfigurements, highlighting them. "And from then on, I'm always reminded not to hold anyone dear to me. To _never_ let my emotions control me again!" He spat the last sentences into her face. "Now, of course, I see the funny side. Now I'm always happy to see her. Now, I'm always smiling!" With that, he grabbed her jaw, holding it open, and began to carve along the seam of her lips; following the natural curve of the forced smile. Now she screamed, but he held her all the tighter, his fingers digging in between the bones…

The Joker lay the woman down by the fire, resting her head gently on the rock. He gently closed her mutilated mouth, which grinned bloodily back at him. The night had grown pitch black, and the fire was reduced to one or two smouldering logs. He could hear leaves rustling in the distance; somebody was coming this way. No doubt They had heard the scream, and were coming to investigate. Perhaps to pick off a weakened survivor. Not likely, the Joker thought. His wounds with harsh and hampering, but He was still able to walk. Unlike this woman.

"You know what they say, live and let die. Goodbye!" He picked up her katana as he went, and hurled into the nearest lake. He hesitated for a moment, then quickly ran back, and knelt by her side.

"Oh, but do you want to know the funniest thing about that story?" He paused to check that she _was_ unconscious. Then he leaned close, and whispered into her ear; "I _Lied_"

With a howling cackle, The Joker vanished into the jungle, leaving the woman in the red and yellow jumpsuit, smiling on the ground.


	3. Hatake Kakashi: Elite Jonin

**A/N I must admit, I've done a terrible job at time management on this one, even by my standards. I went through about a week of researching for this fight, before all the big events at school slapped me over the face, and consumed my attentions for the last two weeks. So this chapter is several days late, and more than a week after my opponent was finished. So huge apologies for that, and huge thanks to the judges for not having judged it already. Go and read Khellan Rafe's entry, it is shorter, but densely packed with jokery-ninjary goodness. And after I read it, I had a revelation of just how wrong Kakahi is in my story. Nonetheless, here it is:**

The Joker hissed at the pain, as the heat from the stick seared the flesh on the tip of his finger. He smiled though; it was a sign of progress. The persistent overcast skies, with occasional showers, made it challenging to find the right time to light a fire. He had started to wish he had used the one he had made days ago in the swamp. But wishing was futile now. The final embers of that tiny campfire were long gone, as was the unconscious women he had left lying by it. Where she had gone, the Joker had no idea. He didn't care either. What he cared about now was igniting a flame; if he could get even the tiniest spark to work with he could fan a merry little blaze into existence, but the slightly-damp sticks were making a difficult task impossible. The wind wasn't helping either. Once he had the flame, he would have to be extremely careful not to allow it to succumb to the howling gales. It would help in the long run though: the intensity of the wind would promote intensity in the flames. With a little luck, and perhaps patience too, it would change direction slightly, and send his little flame-fest charging at the nearest enforcer bunker. Certainly, they were impossible to penetrate with any kind of available weaponry, but with a forest fire it would be simple: anyone inside would be roasted alive in the oven-like temperatures. With them gone, The Joker could spend as long as he wanted, using any method he like to slowly force his way in and recover whatever valuables were in their possession. A napalm bomb would be ideal. A box of matches would be just as good. The Joker gave his finger a short suck to ease the pain, and then continued his patient stick rubbing.

He was crouched down at the crest of a small hill, where a small break in the trees had allowed a tiny patch of grass to grow. On top of the grass, the joker had laid out dried leaves, dead branches, twigs, and other flammable debris and shrapnel he could find. Some of it wasn't flammable; but that didn't bother him much. The stack almost filled the metre-wide clearing, spilling out into the foliage all around where the Joker intended the flames to spread. Only after he had assembled the bonfire, he realized that it would have been better constructed with a beach behind him to fall back on, rather than the cliff edge behind him. But the thought didn't faze him for too long though; he wasn't there to try to keep himself alive. He was there to deny others that right. The Joker continued, up and down, rub rub rub, patiently and consistently, his hands cycling quickly back and forth. Suddenly, he got a spark.

Hatake Kakashi was almost enjoying wandering the island. The freedom he had, once BORED believed he was stuck in his tiny apartment, was satisfying. Now, at last, he could explore, unseen, wherever he pleased… find out what was really going on in this twisted tournament.

His first step, he decided, was to check out his competition. The enforcers he knew, and each was accounted for. Although each of their exact abilities remained vague, Kakashi was confident that his own were equal, if not greater. The more difficult task was now to gather information on the contestants. The files given to him by BORED were bogus; Kakashi had watched several of the fights throughout that week, and while no individual blew his mind, he had observed several abilities on display that had raised his eyebrow. His covered brow, of course. Never would he let on his emotions to anyone watching him; which of course, was no one. Searching and comparing the files, Kakashi had come to the conclusion that they were inadequate, and a hindrance. If he was going to take a proper part in this tournament, he would have to know what he was up against.

So, Hatake Kakashi had continued watching fights; unobserved, from up in the trees. He recorded mental notes of everything he saw, committing to memory every distinguishing move and style of every living competitor that he witnessed. Back in his mini fortress, a shadow of himself had taken up residence; sleeping, eating, and writing things down. It also spent a good portion of its time watching the goings on around the island through cameras hidden in the foliage. Kakashi didn't much care for this perspective; nothing could replace the knowledge, and of course _excitement_, that came with being in the centre of the conflicts. Still, it was useful to know exactly when he was in view, and whether or not BORED might be able to figure him out.

Presently, Kakashi was on the hunt for one of the more elusive characters in this brutal game. He had been given a file on one Mick Bronson, only to be told hours later that Mick Bronson was dead. He had been given another file on the man who seemed to have unofficially taken his place; one called The Joker. The paper was decorated with about two lines of information:

_The Joker is a fugitive from Gotham City. He is known to be wearing clown makeup, is armed, and potentially dangerous. Terminate on sight._

This accompanied by a tiny low-res picture of a blurred face; white and green and red. There was an intense bloodlust in his eyes, visible even through the tiny pixel count provided, and they were staring straight at the lens. From what Kakashi could tell, the man was in the middle of decapitating the camera when it snapped the shot.

Officially, Kakashi would not see the Joker; so he did not think there was a need to kill him on sight. But the amount of information provided was the real joke. He had been taught on the proverb: if you know yourself, and you know your enemy, then you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. Nothing was more dangerous now than an unknown opponent.

Kakashi stopped in his tracks, interrupting his train of thought. He could smell something. He climbed a little bit higher up the tree he had just jumped to, poking his head out the top of the canopy. In the distance, a plume of smoke was snaking its way heavenward, apparently originating from near the Cliffside. Kakashi had a good sense of direction. He was fairly sure it was the cliffs on the northeast corner of the island. A fire, most likely started by some kind of fight. Kakashi resolved to put his hunt for the Joker on hold, in favour of some instant action to observe. Perhaps he'd even get lucky, and the Joker was the one fighting. Not likely though.

The spark had vanished about an instant after it had appeared. That was the final straw; the Joker had snatched up a handgun from his jacket pocket, and just one sprinkle of gunpowder, and a bullet later, his fire was roaring. With a satisfied grin, despite wasting precious ammunition, The Joker had taken up a stick, and began roasting some mushrooms he had found earlier, watching the fire as it grew, and spread outwards, slowly engulfing the trees in front of him…

Eventually, The Joker was forced to move; forest fires are hardly the safest places to hang about. He had devoured the mushrooms hungrily, and so far there were no serious side effects. His constant paranoia may have been a touch more sensitive though. He was sitting in a tree, several hundred metres from the blaze, which was quite quickly burning inland. He was watching the front move through a pair of binoculars he had salvaged from the SWAT van. Something else had caught his eye though, much further down in the ocean of green; he could have sworn he'd seen a head poke up above the trees. He quickly snapped his magnified vision over to the spot. The head was gone. He kept his focus though, watching and waiting… patience was the key. Before long, there was a disturbance in the leaves a little closer. Another, a second later, still further. Somebody was coming, moving through the treetops, at speed. Joker smiled. His forest fire wasn't going the direction he had planned, but at least there was one person there he could terrorize.

Kakashi shot through the trees, leaping and swinging through the canopy like a monkey, but with the speed of a cheetah. As he drew closer to the flames, he began to smell the ever-thickening smoke closing in around him. The blaze was tall enough now to see from afar. When he had reached what he suspected to be the source of the flames, the Jonin slowed suddenly, exchanging his rapid leaps for careful footsteps. He made no sound, barely rustling the leaves as he crept along the branches. Around him, the roar of the fire presided fiercely over the forest, coupled with the intense hear. Kakashi could feel sweat building up all over his body. Looking at his hands, he could see the droplets beginning to form in the deep red light. He wiped them off on his robe, and peered slowly into a clearing.

Kakashi had trained for years in all manners of survival techniques, and one small part of that had been fire tracking. Looking down, he could see the ashes of what would have once been a pile of flammable debris. Clearly it had been deliberately placed there; and in such a way that the fire spread outwards, leaving the space behind it completely clear of the flame. The wind was still blowing in a favourable direction, pushing the inferno further and further from his position. There was no one there now, but Kakashi could see a rock, conveniently placed for sitting, with two footprints on the ground before it. Clearly this person had had some sort of similar training, and was certainly not one to be underestimated. Kakashi turned, beginning his way to tracking down the arsonist… and suddenly felt a knife press against his forehead.

The Joker almost collapsed with glee, cackling like a crazed cuckoo, guffawing his guts out at the stunned look in Kakashi's single visible eye.

"Wow! Oh Wowwahahaha… haaahhhoohoeehheee… Wow! I've have my moments of fun on this island, but nothing, nothing, has come close to this!" Kakashi held completely still, not willing to bet his own reaction time against this mysterious figure. He already knew who it was; the clown make-up, and maddening laughter gave it away in an instant, but Kakashi had no idea what the Joker really was, or what he may be capable of. He had already managed to sneak up on him; granted the roaring inferno, and the Jonin's lack of focus were important factors in that. Kakashi decided to allow Joker the upper hand, for a moment. He would have to talk his way out of it.

"Put that thing away Joker, and I'll leave you alone. I'm an enforcer, I'm not here to fight." A lie, Kakashi knew full well that now he had found the Joker, it was his responsibility to ensure that he didn't escape alive. But the Joker didn't know that. Probably.

"Oh, you're not are you? Why are you here then? To _control_ the contest? You should know then- you should just be able to _tell_…" The Joker slowly moved his knife downward, towards Kakashi's throat, bringing his face inches from Kakashi's

"You can't control something like this… it doesn't work that way. You let a whole bunch of guys, guys just looking for some kind of trouble. You let them loose on an island like this, and all you're going to get… is _chaos_. I'm an agent of chaos. I like things that burn… things that explode… things that hurt people… things that can kill people…"

"You're sick!" spat Kakashi.

"Not that you're any different! Ha! Look at you, sneaking around, jumping out at people to kill them. That's a cold way to do things, even by my standards… Did you notice that I haven't killed you yet? Did you even remember to thank me for that?"

"I'm not looking to kill people."

"Oh, but you will. By the time this whole… competition thing comes to a head, you won't know who you're working for; you won't care who you kill. Just as long as you survive. Because that's what it's all about. Survival. Once you're here the only way out is as the victor" Kakashi had had enough of this drivel. Joker's imposing manner, and aggravating tendency to lick his chops was playing on the Jonin's nerves.

"I could have killed you the moment I saw you! I think you're the one who should be thanking me."

The Joker laughed, and pressed his knife harder against Kakashi's skin. The Elite Ninja felt a thin trickle of blood run down into his shirt.

"You haven't shown me anything that makes me believe that. I'll have to see you in action first. Hit me!" Kakashi was stunned, though he hid it from his face. He stared blankly at the maniac for a second, before the Joker repealed his knife, and began teetering from one leg to another, rambling under his breath.

"Come on… come on, hit me. I want you to… Hit me! Come on, you can do it… Hit me, I want you to do it… come on, hit me…" Kakashi slowly stood up, one hand straying gradually toward the Shurikin at his belt. He wasn't here to fight, and this maniac was probably harmless, save for the knife. Now he had seen the Joker, there wasn't much more he needed from him at the moment. As he stood, Kakashi noticed something; the wind had changed direction.

"Come on… I want you do it… I want you to… HIT ME!" The Joker ended, with a cry; a battle cry. He hurled himself forward, at a speed that surprised the Ninja. Surprised him, but didn't throw him off completely. Joker had barely tensed when Kakashi moved into his fighting stance. A flurry of punches came his way, and he ducked, grabbing onto the tree branch, and allowing gravity to pull him into a swing, down and back up onto the limb. In less than a second, he appeared behind the Joker, still flailing madly forwards. Kakashi stopped for a moment to roll his eye, waiting for the clown to turn around. Once he did, a quick jab in the stomach sent the creep tumbling downwards… laughing all the way.

The Joker collapsed onto the ash, spluttering up the last of his laughter. The ground here was still quite hot, and reeked of smoke and burnt foliage. The smoky haze was far thicker, and the heat persisted in being intense. Kakashi leapt downwards, landing lightly on his feet.

"Thank you Joker, it has been an informative encounter." Kakashi was about to turn and walk away, when he heard the gun go off… and felt it tear through his skin. There were several shots, as the clown unloaded all 24 rounds towards the ninja.

The Joker chuckled as he dropped the smoking handgun onto the wasted ground.

"I missed! I can't believe it, I missed!" He laughed, madly. Kakashi's arm was stinging severely where one bullet had gone straight through it, but he didn't flinch. He stopped in mid turn, and strode angrily over to the Joker, who continued to lie on his back, laughter bellowing forth from deep within his lungs. Kakashi leaned over him and whispered.

"Officially, I was never here, so I was planning on leaving you alone to kill you later… But accidents do happen in the jungle. Have you ever been sliced open by a ninja's blade?"

"Bring it on!" Joker grabbed the Ninja's collar, dragging him down to the dusty ashen floor. Kakashi went down swinging, catching the Joker square in the face with his fist. Punches were frowned upon at the Ninja Academy, but in the heat of the moment, Kakashi didn't care. He swept Jokers arms away with his own still-functional one, and landed with a somersault, rolling until he was on knees.

The Joker leapt up, kicking the handgun off into the thick of the wood. Behind him was nothing but ash and smoke, lit by the fast sheet of flames still burning in the distance. To anyone else, he may have looked like a demon; but all Kakashi could see was his prey. The Joker drew out another knife from inside his tainted purple jacket – this one more of a machete. Kakashi drew his own weapon; what appeared to be a spear tip, made of metal, with a short handle wrapped in fabric. There was a ring on the end, a few finger-widths wide. Although his left arm now hung uselessly by his side, his right arm was tensing up, ready for blood. No more fooling around; Kakashi was going to punish this creepy clown.

Joker leapt forward first, falling at Kakashi with such die hard ferocity, the Ninja was forced to take a step backwards. But it wasn't a trend; even with one arm shot and bleeding, he was still one of the greatest Ninja's in the academy, and certainly the greatest on this island. He parried Joker a few times, although the heavy, rusted metal on the machete left sharp indents in the newer but softer spear tips; Kakashi soon resorted to dodging the crazed strokes that the madman flung his way.

Joker stepped backwards, further and further, despite hurling offensive blows all the way. Before long though, he found himself backed up to a tree… and sweating in the heat. There was a sudden lull in the fighting as the combatants stopped and noticed the tree. It was on fire – utterly ablaze. The flames had totally consumed every other tree beyond it, turning the entire tropical jungle into a scene from the pits of hell. The thunderous roar of the flames, neither of the two had noticed until the sparring stopped, was now overpowering, like the worlds largest waterfall, magnified a hundred times, inside a tiny room. The heat was worse than any oven the Joker had ever put his hands into – and it's ability to wear the two down was second only to the encroaching smoke billowing forth from the pinnacle of the flames, only to waft downwards and consume the two fighters.

Kakashi smiled behind his headscarf. He had felt the wind, and seen the fire coming. Now all it would take was a good hard push or kick, to send his opponent flying into a slow, painful, death. He focussed his attention back onto the Joker, and was confronted by a sudden push forward; the Joker had taken advantage of Kakashi's momentary distraction, and thrust himself forward, machete first, charging like a champion jouster. Kakashi took a quick side step to avoid the blade, and then turned around to face his foe. The tables had turned; the Joker was in prime position to force the Jonin back into the flames. Kakashi championed on. Behind him, he could feel the heat, as if it would set fire to the hair on his neck. To his left he could see the flames were 20 metres further up, and the right not much more. He was standing on the edge of a wall of flame, desperately pushing forwards. He threw his strikes hard onto the clown, most of them without a specific target other than to force the Joker back. His arm was numb, but continued to bleed, splattering precious red liquid all over him, and the trees… moments before the fire engulfed them. The Joker marched backwards; yielding to the desperate throws hammering down on him. The delicate art of swordplay wasn't the Jokers strength, but his mad swinging blocked most of the blows despite. The spear head managed to reach him several times, ripping holes into his suit, and his flesh. He laughed, but no one could hear him. Kakashi was bellowing, but he might as well have been silent. Nothing could overpower the unstoppable howls of contentment, as the fire burned its way, metre by metre, through the jungle.

Then finally, they stopped. The Joker found himself stepping out into the open, onto rough rocky ground. Kakashi stepped into the clear as well, and felt the salt spray blast his face; a joyous refresher compared to the smog behind him. The two were standing face to face, barely an arms length between them, on a segment of the cliff that jutted out from the rest. A narrow strip, without trees, without any other place to go. Behind Kakashi was the fire, seconds away from consuming the last of their jungle battleground. Behind the Joker was a vertical drop, about the equivalent of a 10-storey building, straight down into the tumultuous waters beneath. Jagged rocks poked their heads out of the water, and there was even a long forgotten shipwreck to complete the grim picture. There was no escape.

Kakashi breathed deeply, and shuddered. This had started as just a simple scouting exercise. Now it was kill or be killed, damned if he did, damned if he didn't. The Joker breathed deeply, and grinned. His apparent ignorance of the situation was almost unnerving to Kakashi.

"Do you want to know…" The clown shouted over the wind and the flames, breathless though he was, "Why I use a _knife_?" The Joker drew back his machete, holding it out in a sign of peace. Kakashi didn't give in. He wouldn't trust this man an inch. Slightly offended by his silence, Joker continued. "I find that guns are just a little too…QUICK!" On the last word, the Joker suddenly reached into a hidden pocket inside his jacket, and whipped out… a second pistol. He fired blindly, emptying most of the 23 bullets that remained, catching Kakashi several times in the stomach. The Jonin fell, and the Joker walked over to him. Joker picked him up, holding him in his arms. He took his knife back, and pressing it against Kakashi's throat, gently aligning it with the incision he had made earlier. He continued. "You can't savour all the _little_ emotions… You know, in their final moments… that's when people show you who they truly are… Who are you really, _Ninja_?"

Kakashi grabbed the Jokers throat, ignoring the knife against his own. He could barely stand, but he pulled the clown down, slamming the back of his head on the gravel of the cliff. To his frustration, the face came up smiling. The Joker lashed out with his feet now, kicking him in the gut, and sending the Jonin flying across, dangerously close to the edge. The Joker stood, and strode over to him. He took two more shots, this time at Kakashi's knees. Cringing with pain, Kakashi grabbed at the Joker's feet with his one good limb.

"You are a fighter… something you should be proud of. You died fighting a good fight." With one last brutal kick to the head, Kakashi was thrown backwards, over the cliff. Looking up as he fell, he saw the Joker staring back at him from above, a hellish grin on his face, illuminated by occasional spurts of lightning, silhouetted against the fiendish wall of red. It was the last thing Kakashi ever saw, before he struck the water.

The Joker tore his vision from the broken body of the enforcer down below, and set about tending to his wounds. The storm that had been brewing all day was finally coming to a head; apart from the thunder and lightning, he could feel light raindrops pattering against his skin. Soon, the Joker reasoned, the rain would put out the fire, and he would be able to go and find shelter… An enforcers outpost would be ideal…

"Hmm" he said to himself; a simple expression that took on several meanings in his mind. Namely frustration. He had forgotten to steal the enforcer's keycard. That had been the idea behind hunting one of them; because they had what he needed.

Joker leaned over the edge to examine the mangled body below. Definitely dead, definitely un-pilfered, and most definitely, impossible to reach. It would have to be the SWAT van, until he could find another victim. In the meantime, the Joker began to whistle. He still lived, so it wasn't all bad.

Far in the south part of the island, Kakashi's replica had been vacillating between resting, and reading. At the moment of Kakashi's death, it was just finishing off the final chapter of Icha Icha Paradise, when it suddenly began to fade from existence. The shadow of the Elite Ninja watched itself, as its body deteriorated rapidly into the atmosphere. The book clattered to the floor of the bunker, slamming shut, with a sense of finality.

All this was witnessed on-screen by a lackey at BOREDs Headquarters' in the centre of the isle. When the cover thumped closed, it took him about two seconds to start hammering the intercom.

"Quick! Get me Mr Ofdensen! Forget about his day spa, tell him we have an enforcer missing, and potentially rogue!"


End file.
